


Making Up For Lost Time

by astrangerenters



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-06
Updated: 2007-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could undress herself that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Up For Lost Time

She ached all over, but her feet seemed to claim the title of most painful body part at present. Another ball to celebrate…what was it again? She'd given a terrific speech earlier that evening, and it had already been forgotten. The stifling desert summer was sapping her of her wits. She trudged up the staircase to her chambers, waving off her maid with a flick of her hand.

She was not a child, and she could undress herself that night. Everyone at the palace had worked long hours to get the ball in order, and they all deserved a break. Seeing no one else in the hallway to chastise her, she slipped off her heeled shoes. The marble floors were so cool against her bare feet, and it soothed the blisters she knew were starting to form. Why had she agreed to dance so many times that night?

Carrying her shoes in her hand, she padded slowly to the end of the hall and opened her heavy wooden door. She shut it behind her and tossed the shoes aside, hearing them clatter against a wall. The Queen released a heavy sigh, and let the calm darkness of her bedchamber relax her. There was a small sliver of moonlight visible, trailing from the balcony to her bed, highlighting the crisp sheets. It was like an arrow pointing her to her slumber.

She wanted nothing more than to heave herself onto the bed and let sleep claim her, but she would ruin her gown if she did so. Her hair was pinned up in some elaborate style her maid specialized in, and she looked into her mirror to figure out the best way to take it apart. Her face was in shadow, only the slight glow of the moonlight guiding her fingers to her hair. She tugged on one of the little pins at the nape of her neck, and several strands began to unravel from the way they had been heaped on top of her head.

After her hair was down, she undid her necklace and set it down on her vanity. She added her earrings and bracelets. Now was the difficult part. Someone had seen fit to bless her with long fingers, so she was able to reach behind her and tug apart the first few buttons holding her gown together. From there, she had to strain to undo them, and some part of her wished she hadn't dismissed the maid.

Several moments later, the gown was undone, and she let it fall the floor and she stepped aside. She picked it up and set it over a chair at the vanity. Next came the slip underneath with the corseted top. Though she hated to wear such restricting garments, there was a set etiquette for ball attire. Etiquette that she would change once she was more settled in her place as the fashion example for her kingdom, she thought determinedly.

The full use of her lungs only moments away, she began eagerly tugging at the strings of the top, grateful that it laced up in the front. She could already feel it loosening around her body when the silence in the darkened room was broken.

"Keep going, Princess."

His voice was like rich silk caressing her, but its unexpected sound startled her and she jumped in surprise. She followed the sound of the voice to the other side of the bed where he was sitting comfortably in a chair, his gun resting across his lap.

She crossed the room to stand beside one of her bedposts, facing him as he sat in the shadows, only his hand on the gun visible in the moonlight. He shifted in the seat, moving the gun to point it at her. She was to keep going as ordered.

Her eyes focused on the intruder, her breath beginning to catch in her throat. She let her fingers return to the laces, pulling them apart slowly. There was only a thinner slip beneath this one left to remove. The ribbons were undone, and she held it on her as she awaited the next demands of the invader of her bedchamber.

The gun was set on the floor, and he rose from the seat. He grabbed her hands away from her slip, and it fell to pool around her ankles. His hands grasped hers firmly as he leaned forward to kiss her. His lips trailed down her neck, and he started to slide the last layer of clothing off of her shoulder. "I told you to keep going," he whispered against her skin.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You said 'keep going, Princess'. There's no Princess here." His grin was visible in the soft light as he bent down to kiss her again. She broke away first to smirk at him. "You're late, by the way."

He ran his hand up and down the thin material that still clung to her. "If I'm late," he muttered, "then I better make up for lost time." She moved to lie down on the bed, pulling her visitor with her.


End file.
